Denatured
by Knoxvillelives
Summary: A really great story I wrote for English with Mat Roberts, there I credited you...now shut up. Chapter 2-4 coming soon. Not so much Silent Hill but the basic idea...I love it and I hope you do too.
1. The Train

Denatured  
By Adam Morgan  
  
Chapter One  
  
The train exploded past me, the passengers on the inside a mere rush of colours and their faces a blotch of life in the dull station. Sparks rushed into the air, escaping the ground like small bursts of fire erupting from the rails as the train ground to a halt. The doors opened with a whistle, slightly stalling half way. I stepped inside, my shoes leaving the cold, dismal station into the warm, cosy train carriage. I hoisted my bag onto the baggage shelf and looked to the seat directly beside me, and then looked to the rest of the carriage. Every single seat was full. Businessmen, families and kids. Wearing their stupid clothes and listening to their stupid music. I hated that, it was so rude, just sitting there, not listening to anything or paying attention to the people around.  
I gripped a pole next to me; not daring to think about kind of hands had touched it, and waited for a seat to become vacant. The train rattled on, screaming as it burst through tunnel after tunnel before returning to normal, running along the track. The people around me were silent, which creeped me out a little, I didn't like silence, I like it when I could hear people interacting, talking, touching, loving, being people. I stared at the ground, I needed new shoes. My red trainers were now really uncool and the left one was tatty and the heel was worn down. But I still loved them, even if nobody else did. The train once again began coming to a halt and the group of kids stood up, shoving their hands into their pockets and shuffling off the train like penguins. I wasn't going to sit there. Three more people rose, one right next to me took his briefcase from the shelf and carried it off, carefully avoiding my head as he dragged it down, which was sweet. I smiled at him as he manoeuvred himself round the corner of the doors. I sat down carefully, testing the seat with my hands. He looked at me again as he walked past the window, his smile made me forget what I was doing and I sat down, regardless of personal hygiene.  
I sighed as the train began its slow acceleration down into another tunnel, the train seemed to rock a little as we exploded out of the other side. The sun was now out in full force, burning my face, causing me to recoil and once again look out into the train. Only about five people remained on the carriage, a few men in very slick suits, probably talking about stock or something like that. The small patches of fields by the road line were full with cows and men, digging, ploughing, doing farm stuff. I was a city kid at heart and had no idea what they were doing.  
Another tunnel loomed ahead; I had to crane my neck to see it in the window. The train rocked again as it rattled on, creaking as it approached, speeding up as the tunnel's darkness ate up the train inch by inch, like a mouth opening up, the tunnel swallowed us. Another odd whooshing noise erupted into my ears, but this was different, there was a painful squeal accompanying the wind. It was almost a scratchy noise, like the train was rubbing along the tunnel sides. The train rocked to the right, bouncing off the wall, I was tossed over in my seat. Instinctively my hands leapt onto my head, I crept onto my knees as the train tossed itself back to the left, and I was thrown back into my seat, banging my head on the chair's metal base. My eyes tight shut, they opened briefly to look for something to grab onto. The pole had lifted out of its stand and was banging against the door, shattering the window, spreading glass all over the floor, something above had exploded, everything had gone dark, I could see it through my closed eyes, the light had popped. I fell back, my eyes slamming shut. Something hit me on the head, hard, it may have been the seat but I was past caring, I embraced unconsciousness like a blanket and didn't let go. 


	2. The AfterMath

I opened my eyes, their lids feeling like lead weights, everything was blurred; I could make out dark outlines of shapes in front of me; twisted contorted metal with a dancing border of fire. Smashed glass lay before me, my hands moving to get away from it. My eyes had now focused, I was inside the train, the door ahead had smashed open, the pole was now on the floor, inches away from me. I had no real idea where I was but I knew it was unsafe. I picked my self up and stumbled through the door. Up ahead was a small light, at least it was day time. I stepped forward, my brain not entirely focused. The darkness around me was closing in, swallowing me whole and I had sped up, desperate to get out.  
I was almost out when I heard a noise. The sound of old metal creaking, hope stirred with in me, a survivor maybe . I turned my self round, took a few steps forward, the creaking was now louder, something inside was moving. I sped up, my feet wandering on their won when they suddenly stopped, the train moved. A tiny movement, tipping it further onto it's side and then a crash echoed through the tunnel. Speeding towards me, enveloping me in a wall of sound . I heard a snort, heavy breathing, with a rasp, the ribs rattling as the mouth drew breath. That wasn't human, my instincts forced me to turn and run, the light nearing once again, not daring to look back I thrust my self into the streets, a blast of cold air hitting my face. The noise stopped as soon as my foot left the tunnel.  
My eyes adjusted to the light, something was wrong. I was now standing in a street, low mist hung like a mysterious veil, hiding an unknown truth, obscuring any light that could get through the wall of grey clouds. The visibility down to about ten metres, I stepped further, new street being paved in front of me as I stepped forward. Ahead was a row of phones, sticking out of place from the cracked paving stones the boxes on small wooden poles, holes punched in the side, marking out a phone. There were three and I stepped up the one nearest me. I checked the stickers and shoved my hands in my pockets. I pulled out some change, amazingly I had become one of those people, useful items hidden in between fluff and obsolete items. I held out my change into the slot, the value of them unrecognisable, hoping to string together a few dollars I curled the first coin in. As soon as I heard I drop into the box, the phones rang. All three in a row, a deafening ring erupting into my ears. I looked at each phone, each one ringing at the same time. I thought for a second, it wasn't a coincidence, I stretched out my hand, pausing before coiling it around the receiver. As soon as it slid off the hook, the ringing stopped, it was to be expected but..the other phones were gone too, the ringing silenced in the streets. The phone I had to my ear made no sound, it was dead. Hopelessly letting it dangle on the chord I checked the others, dead.  
I sighed, where was I? All the houses behind me were disgusting, a horrible yellowy colour with green shutters, all closed, revealing nothing of the people in the inside, but I doubted there was anyone there, this must have been a town evacuated in the war or something, the gardens overridden with weeds, no one lived here. I sat down on the kerb but immediately jolted up, over the road, directly across the street from the phones, was a café. It's bright neon sing, flickering, slightly dirty, dead flies trapped inside. The windows that weren't shielded by the blinds were huge, revealing an empty, but welcoming interior. The open sing swinging silently in the breeze that swept over my shoulders. I pushed, the bar at the back empty, the seats rotting, the tables empty, no longer shining. On the tables sat long forgotten meals, a veneer of mould spread over them. I was beginning to wonder what had happened here, and if it was about to happen to me.  
I sat down on one of the more sanitary seats, looking across the bar, the half empty bottles standing alone in between the broken bottles that lined the floor behind the bar. The door creaked.my ears pricked up, I had made an enemy of my imagination before in the tunnel, the image of a monster exploding in my mind, I couldn't do that again. I took another look at the bottles behind the bar, lining the shelves, their liquids long gone but their stains still fresh on the maroon carpet. I was about to stand to look closer behind the bar when something hit my shoulder, wrapping around it causing me to jump and turn in mid air. I opened my eyes, which I had snapped shut when I had jumped. When the opened they were met by two deep blue eyes, staring at me. The eyes belonged to a policeman, at least I hoped he was a policeman. I estimated him to be thirty, and he was y idea of the perfect man, tall, dark handsome with an air of innocence about him.  
  
'Jesus, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just trying to get your attention.', his voice was soft, but unnerved. 'Aren't you too young to be in a bar?'  
What? Sorry, what? Was he chatting me up? Anyway, I was twenty seven, of course not. He was looking at me again, his hands still on my shoulders. He registered my confused face and pulled his hands back. 'Kidding. Hey, I'm Phil.'  
I took a closer look at his eyes, there were bluish-grey, but as they melted into the irises they became bright yellow. 'Hey, Phil.' He looked at me, expecting something more. 'Oh.I'm Kate.'  
'Well hi there Kate.' I noticed a leather holster to his right, a small black pistol poking out at me.  
'Hi. Erm.what happened here?'  
'What do you mean?', he rocked his head back, puzzled.  
'Well the phones outside.doesn't matter, where is everyone?'  
'I don't know, honestly, I sometimes think this place is just a figment of my imagination, stupid huh? I wouldn't worry about those phones, those things have been broken for years.'  
'It's just, I was in this tunnel and.', my voice trailed off, I could hear the nose gain, so clearly as I remembered running in the tunnel, the low grunting and howling.  
'What the hell is that?', Phil had jumped back, his face spinning on his neck to the windows. The noise was there again and it was blowing through the window like a whirlwind. He looked back to me. 'Shit.what is it? Have you heard this before?'. He had seen my face.  
'Yeah I.', my voice trailed off, the noise was gone, no echo to confirm it's actual existence. Phil spun on his heels, before turning back reluctantly to me. He waited, considering something before sliding his gun out and putting it on one of the tables next to him. What did he mean?  
'You take this, I'm going to see what that was.'  
'Your leaving me?', my voice rasped, how could he do this?  
'Listen, if you have that,', he gestured to the gun. 'You'll be fine alright? Just fire in the air and I'll be back in a flash alright?'  
'A gun?', my voice was now desperate, but Phil was already the door, swinging it open into him before stepping out, looking back at me one last time.  
'I'll be back, don't worry,'  
'Wait.', but Phil was gone, disappearing in the midst like a dream or some distant memory. And there I was, on my stool, my legs curled up close to me, alone. 


	3. The Hospital

Denatured  
  
By Adam Morgan  
  
Chapter Three  
  
The chair felt cold under me. All I had was my jacket over my shirt and the  
  
café was freezing. The windows were fully condensed and the bar was  
  
dripping wet from a leak in the roof. The lines of beer pumps stood still,  
  
I could picture the men and women queuing for their drinks, the tables  
  
surrounding by shouting men, the smoke from their cigarettes hanging in the  
  
air like a great smelly carpet. I could see the jukebox in the corner lit  
  
up, playing songs, the small corner reserved for dancing filled with  
  
people. I could still feel the energy of the place. My eyes wandered over  
  
to the smashed bottles that lined the bar's shelf, their fluids long gone.  
  
I curled my legs up onto the chair and wrapped my arms protectively around  
  
them. I looked back around the room, the blinds were motionless, one was  
  
half open, revealing the mist ridden streets, like an unknown sea; it  
  
beckoned me out to explore it. But I knew I couldn't, not after that noise,  
  
that thing that moved the train wasn't human. It must have been a bear or  
  
something; I didn't want to step out into that.  
  
I knew my only chance of getting out was that cop, the phone boxes were  
  
weird and I hadn't seen anyone. Why did he have to leave? I felt so  
  
helpless. I was all-alone and the only comfort I had was a gun, given to me  
  
by a complete stranger. I stood up, my knees weak under my weight, and  
  
stepped over to the table near the door. The gun was matt black, the kind  
  
cops have, a Beretta 9.thingy. I knew I couldn't use it, not knowingly  
  
anyway, but it would be nice to know I had it. I looked at it for a long  
  
time, before placing my hand over the grip. I angled my body round so I  
  
could pick it up. I scooped up the gun, the bridge of my hand fitting  
  
neatly into the sleek shiny curve behind the butt. I wrapped my finger  
  
slowly around the trigger, I instantly lowered the weapon. It felt nice in  
  
my hand; the nervous cop had warmed it for me, which was comforting,  
  
knowing that I wasn't the only one here wetting myself, but still kind of  
  
gross. The metal was still quite cold though, I could feel it surging  
  
through my fingers and bones. The safety was off, I could pull the trigger,  
  
test it out. No. No, I wouldn't need it, I placed the gun violently down,  
  
returning to my seat and curling up again.  
  
For five minutes my eyes fixed on the gun. It had me in a vice, it's power  
  
gripped me, I had heard of this, people going on power trips because of  
  
guns, but I knew I didn't need it, unless something happened. I sat up from  
  
the chair, tearing myself reluctantly away from the gun. I stepped over to  
  
the small corner with the wooden floor and broken lights hanging over it.  
  
The floor was disgusting, I pulled my feet back from it as they began to  
  
get harder to lift from the sticky surface. It was a wooden floor, although  
  
right now I couldn't really tell what it was, there was so much dirt and  
  
old chewing gum on the floor it didn't seem to matter. The jukebox to the  
  
right was dark, hiding the old pages behind the glass. The buttons were now  
  
unrecognisable as the covers for them had worn off, I could vaguely make  
  
out the words, 'Nxt Pae', which I assumed meant next page. I turned away  
  
and set my eyes back on the floor that stretched to the back of the bar. I  
  
tried to make out what the pools were, rippling in between the studs of  
  
chewing gum and mud. They glistened in the dim light of the single bulb  
  
that was still lit above, they were deep and dark and a powerful red.  
  
Surely they weren't? They were, it seemed, bloo.  
  
'Smash!' something exploded trough the window, sending the blinds dancing  
  
on their hooks. Glass showered the floor, digging into my leg. I whipped my  
  
hands up and fell to my knees and looked up to the bar. The mist crept into  
  
the room and the outside cold erupted in, sending a violent chill down my  
  
spine, my eyes settled and I saw something fall from the bar. It squealed  
  
horribly as it hit the floor, knocking over some of the glasses and bottles  
  
that lined the wooden surface. As it fell I could make out a small brown  
  
arm, ripped and torn and covered in scars and scabs. The arm was tiny and  
  
the creature it belonged to made a small noise as it thudded against the  
  
ground. It must have been some kind of animal, but it sounded familiar. It  
  
groaned as it hoisted it self up and yelped as it lurched from behind the  
  
bar round to me. I could hear, like a wooden fence creaking or a foul dog  
  
barking, I could hear it, approaching me. I stood up slowly, and pulled  
  
blindly at some of the glass in my leg as I gasped in fear. I rummaged on  
  
the table behind me for the gun, but I couldn't feel it. I spun on my heels  
  
and saw it, two tables to the left and a door behind the door that led to  
  
the street or an alley of some kind. I could feel the creature smashing  
  
through the glass, rummaging around, looking for me. I grabbed the gun,  
  
taking a brief look at the shattered window and pelted towards the door.  
  
The door exploded open and I burst out, gasping fro breath, into a small  
  
alley that stretched out into the mist clouded streets. To my right was a  
  
dumpster, rotten and putrid, sticking out of the wall next to the door. I  
  
glanced in both directions, there were two exits, both lead out into the  
  
streets I had tried so hard to avoid. But I could still hear that thing,  
  
crawling and lurching in my mind. I had to get out. I cold feel a new  
  
sensation now, I felt.dirty, like I had disgusting animals all over me,  
  
rushing around my body. I contorted, disgusted at the smell of the alley as  
  
it flooded my senses, I ran to my left, almost bouncing off the wall I was  
  
so disorientated. In a few seconds I was out in the street again. The mist  
  
consuming me and the fear of my surroundings disturbing my thought, taking  
  
over my senses. I could once again make out vague shapes that were once  
  
houses, their walls decayed and the windows boarded. I once again realised  
  
the presence of power, I was still holding the gun, by the barrel, dangling  
  
it awkwardly from my fingers. I looked at it, raising it to my stomach and  
  
staring down at it, it looked back. I gripped the barrel and twisted the  
  
weapon round in my hand; I was now holding it ready, both hands tightly  
  
holding the grip. I looked back at the street, the sewers spreading the  
  
rushing sound of water beneath my feet. In the distance, shining through  
  
the mist that shrouded the roads, I could see something familiar, a green  
  
saviour. The green hospital cross.  
  
I had my hand on the door now, the gun tucked firmly behind my back,  
  
covered by my shirt. I had worked out that if there was anyone from the  
  
crash that they would be here, in the hospital. I envisioned my self  
  
stepping in and being welcomed by the people, cared for and placed in a  
  
nice bed and seeing everyone and finding out what the hell had happened.  
  
I felt a glimmer of hope as I pushed the door open but was met only by a rotted reception desk, a dim single bulb and a few metal fold out chairs. The only company I had was my long shadow cast over the floor and into the dark.  
  
***************  
  
I had been sitting on the bed for ten minutes now. I had tried the phone in the reception area and had tired to turn on the lights. I right against the back board, wrapping my arms around my legs and looking out at the other beds and the corridor directly in front of me. The gun lay in front of me, my only hope at the moment until Phil returned. I was about to reach out to hold it again when I heard something, the door's windows had shattered, throwing glass across the reception area. I was two floors up and I could hear it coming. It was the same noise I'd heard before from the tunnel and the café, a horrible lurching sound accompanied by a horrific squeal, a burst of noise from something that was following me. I could hear it approaching, the corridor ahead of me shrouded in dark, only the beds being lit eerily by single bulbs. My legs had unfolded, my arms by my sides, loose with fear, my eyes darting around for an escape. But I was trapped, the only way out was up the stairs or down them, and there was no way I was going to run out to face that thing. I stood up, one hand gripping the bed linen, curling up between my fingers. I could hear it, it was on this floor. I heard another yelp and decided that I had two choices, my mind was racing, it was what, thirty metres away. The dirty tiles showing no reflection and the dark obscuring my view I looked down onto the bed, my hand moved away. I saw the gun, the handle pointing to me, I scooped it up, my two hands holding onto it like a baby. I moved forward, my back pressed against the foot rail of the bed, I could barely stand with cold fear. I raised the gun into the abyss and shut my eyes tight. I pulled the trigger twice, my hand jumping off the gun with shock. The noise was incredible, a group of fireworks exploding in my hand. I heard the click of the shell casing and fired twice more, hitting the ceiling and floor with my one handed shot. I had held the gun away fro my face, pulling myself away from the blasts. The chambers recoil had badly skewed my aim but it was done. I heard a thud as something heavy hit the floor. I watched the smoke rise from the gun as I gasped for air, and lowered the gun. 


	4. Just A Girl

FOUR  
  
I lowered the weapon. My entire form was shaking; I could smell the tangy aroma of cordite filled the air. I heard a cough from the darkness I raised the weapon, but not sufficiently to fire. I noticed the glittering bullet casings scattered across the floor, they looked like beetle eyes, reflecting nothing but the darkness that enveloped me. I noticed flecks of dark liquid on the floor; they too reflected the abysmal darkness of the corridor. The colour outside, it seemed, reflected my inner self, and my tumultuous emotions. I was shaking violently now, the dark liquid on the floor had changed from flecks to pools, I reasoned with myself, that it could be water, but inside I knew what it was, the essence of life, blood.  
I forced myself to carry on walking, my legs refusing to comply. A pair of feet emerged out of the darkness; the feet soon became legs, legs which were unattached to anything, their bloody stumps looked like charred meat in the darkness of the corridor. My mind refused to accept the horror that I had witnessed, it shut down, and I crumpled into a heap on the cold linoleum floor.  
I woke to the putrid aroma of death; it was splattered across the floor. I saw what had caused me to collapse, but it was different; not the mutilated mess I was expecting, but Phil, he had a bullet wound in his chest, another in the neck, dark blood pooled across the floor like an oil slick, but after the atrocity to nature I had previously witnessed, this was mild. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye and rolled down my cheek. This man had helped me when there was no one else around; my method of thanks was more than a little unorthodox. I couldn't spend any more time here, I didn't want to spend any more time here, I walked. I couldn't believe what was going on; I would never have done anything like this normally. I had just killed a man and left the body, it was this place. It was doing things to my head. I ran the rest of the corridor, my tatty sneakers crunching through scatterings of light bulb glass. Déjà vu, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, the noise was rushing towards me, enveloping me, inhuman snorting, grunting, the creature, whatever it was, squealed, it had obviously found Phil, I threw the weapon to the ground and ran harder, I reached the light at the end and came out in a well-lit room; it smelled sterile, white towels were stacked neatly to one side, emergency fold-out beds were piled against a wall. The only exit was a small window, big enough to fit through. I picked up a towel and wrapped it around my clenched fist; I hit the window as hard as I could. My fist bounced off it with a dull thud. I grimaced as the pain shot up my arm and into my shoulder. The noise was getting closer. I desperately grabbed at one of the beds and swung it at the glass; with a crash, the pane shattered and showered the alley below with fragments of broken glass. I took one last look behind me. Nothing but darkness, but the noise continued to grow. I threw a towel over the shards still stuck in the bottom of the frame and jumped through. A rush of cold air hit my face, I revelled in the freedom I had, fresh air never felt so great. My feet crunched down on the shards of glass as I sped off down the street.  
I emerged in another misty street. It looked like the set of a low budget horror film. The tarmac beneath my feet was covered in a thin coat of dew. I looked up to the sky and screamed. When was I going out get out of here, when was this going to end?  
  
The doctors looked at the limp form lying on the bed, they were shaking their heads. A woman, in her forties had her head in the shoulder of an older looking man, she sobbed gently to the monotonous sound of the heart- rate monitor. "I'm sorry, there's nothing more that we can do." The woman nodded in compliance through her tears. One of the doctors reached for the life- support unit. He flicked a switch and the lights on the machine gently faded to black. Somewhere else, within the far reaches of the girls mind, she lay, her eyes blank and staring at the sky accusingly, dead. 


End file.
